'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'emout of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha,ha, ha!'

Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and wasscrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own brightedge.

'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!'

'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty ofownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, MrChuzzlewit.'

'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonaslooking at it with a growing interest.

'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in apretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor,coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal thathe couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated thedoctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips.

'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?'demanded Jonas.

'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,'returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.'

Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so closebehind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas(in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a louddiscordant laugh.

'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edgetools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of theskillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment.It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder,committed by a member of our profession; it was so artisticallydone.'

'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?'

'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. Acertain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street,lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in anupright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supportedconsequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was onesolitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had beenmurdered, sir.'

'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas.

'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart.Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he haddied instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that amedical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged himin conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by thebutton in a conversational manner; had examined his ground atleisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn outthe instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--'

'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas.

'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in itsway, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as Itell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can'tsay. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or threeof my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted tomake a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation insaying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; andthat in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered,either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a stillmore extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction ofcircumstances.'

His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor wenton to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumband waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further troubleof going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing themurdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. Thebottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely thesame boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, asJobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must havebeen a very ostrich.

At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though winewas drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nineo'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage,he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; andwith these things under his cloak, went down to the door.

'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!'

This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted andwrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in.

'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey.

He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montaguewas lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar.

'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?'

'Yes,' said Montague.

He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There wasmore of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he haddone that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, andmaking a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of hisrepresentation of the medical friend, went out to the carriageagain, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. MrBailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!'exclaimed the doctor, as they started.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND

The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather wasspeedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his,and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case,the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance ofhis professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of thenight had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling wouldnever have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentimentson the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too muchsuccess to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions.

It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windowslistening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; whenthey recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and oflonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck bylightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon evennow; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had beenblowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with itsexhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had notyet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, fromthe dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise andconflict afar off.

It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloudwhich shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper thathad been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had beenadvancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, ornearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of thestreets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had comethere--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to lookup at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops ofrain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on hisknee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have groundits neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by thenight, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; andwith the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of themas not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion hadextinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they satlooking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them.

They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can bewhose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormouscity. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying tothe nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceedingonward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clustersof such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched theweather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within.Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other companyrather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to belooking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house theypassed.

It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, orrendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, andoften changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of thecarriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But heneither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence whichprevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly uponhimself, by addressing a word to him.

The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down likeHeaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, andat the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on theirjourney. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and mighthave tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Norhad this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at thattime seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held theircourse as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Althoughthey had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried verywell, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they mustgo.

Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriadhalls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter becamethe lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. Thehorses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged andstarted from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind alongthe ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forwardthey went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction.

The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw inits every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see atsteady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with therope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornicesand nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons thatcame tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warningwhich the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields;miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringeof trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand;in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear andplain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change toblue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light;and then the deepest and profoundest darkness.

The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may havepresented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenlyrose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and asrapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted,and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he wouldaim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or sobelieved) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnaturalexcitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--whichmight have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion.

He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, whobrought his horses to a stop with all speed.

It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had nottaken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he satreclining in his corner as before.

'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way ofwaking out of your sleep?'

'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed myeyes!'

'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better goon again, if you have only stopped for that.'

He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it tohis lips, took a long draught.

'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' saidMontague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice thatbetrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.'

'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be outin it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we mighthave been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep.What are we stopping for?'

His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawingit in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), thatthe boy was drenched to the skin.

'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil arewe stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?'

'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other withsome hesitation.

'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here;especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain'tafraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever elseis. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' hemuttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!'

'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and takecare how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called toyou.'

This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forwardagain. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, butrepeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself,both then and afterwards, unusually anxious.

From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a termmay be employed to express the state in which he had left the city.He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs,without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything butloud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him.

'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' saidMontague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?'

'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, forthe moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any onedirection, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't changeyou, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus,

It may lighten and storm, Till it hunt the red worm From the grass where the gibbet is driven; But it can't hurt the dead, And it won't save the head That is doom'd to be rifled and riven.

That must be a precious old song,' he added with an oath, as hestopped short in a kind of wonder at himself. 'I haven't heard itsince I was a boy, and how it comes into my head now, unless thelightning put it there, I don't know. "Can't hurt the dead"! No,no. "And won't save the head"! No, no. No! Ha, ha, ha!'

His mirth was of such a savage and extraordinary character, and was,in an inexplicable way, at once so suited to the night, and yet sucha coarse intrusion on its terrors, that his fellow-traveller, alwaysa coward, shrunk from him in positive fear. Instead of Jonas beinghis tool and instrument, their places seemed to be reversed. Butthere was reason for this too, Montague thought; since the sense ofhis debasement might naturally inspire such a man with the wish toassert a noisy independence, and in that licence to forget his realcondition. Being quick enough, in reference to such subjects ofcontemplation, he was not long in taking this argument into accountand giving it its full weight. But still, he felt a vague sense ofalarm, and was depressed and uneasy.

He was certain he had not been asleep; but his eyes might havedeceived him; for, looking at Jonas now in any interval of darkness,he could represent his figure to himself in any attitude his stateof mind suggested. On the other hand, he knew full well that Jonashad no reason to love him; and even taking the piece of pantomimewhich had so impressed his mind to be a real gesture, and not theworking of his fancy, the most that could be said of it was, that itwas quite in keeping with the rest of his diabolical fun, and hadthe same impotent expression of truth in it. 'If he could kill mewith a wish,' thought the swindler, 'I should not live long.'

He resolved that when he should have had his use of Jonas, he wouldrestrain him with an iron curb; in the meantime, that he could notdo better than leave him to take his own way, and preserve his ownpeculiar description of good-humour, after his own uncommon manner.It was no great sacrifice to bear with him; 'for when all is gotthat can be got,' thought Montague, 'I shall decamp across thewater, and have the laugh on my side--and the gains.'

Such were his reflections from hour to hour; his state of mind beingone in which the same thoughts constantly present themselves overand over again in wearisome repetition; while Jonas, who appeared tohave dismissed reflection altogether, entertained himself as before.They agreed that they would go to Salisbury, and would cross to MrPecksniff's in the morning; and at the prospect of deluding thatworthy gentleman, the spirits of his amiable son-in-law became moreboisterous than ever.

As the night wore on, the thunder died away, but still rolledgloomily and mournfully in the distance. The lightning too, thoughnow comparatively harmless, was yet bright and frequent. The rainwas quite as violent as it had ever been.

It was their ill-fortune, at about the time of dawn and in the laststage of their journey, to have a restive pair of horses. Theseanimals had been greatly terrified in their stable by the tempest;and coming out into the dreary interval between night and morning,when the glare of the lightning was yet unsubdued by day, and thevarious objects in their view were presented in indistinct andexaggerated shapes which they would not have worn by night, theygradually became less and less capable of control; until, taking asudden fright at something by the roadside, they dashed off wildlydown a steep hill, flung the driver from his saddle, drew thecarriage to the brink of a ditch, stumbled headlong down, and threwit crashing over.

The travellers had opened the carriage door, and had either jumpedor fallen out. Jonas was the first to stagger to his feet. He feltsick and weak, and very giddy, and reeling to a five-barred gate,stood holding by it; looking drowsily about as the whole landscapeswam before his eyes. But, by degrees, he grew more conscious, andpresently observed that Montague was lying senseless in the road,within a few feet of the horses.

In an instant, as if his own faint body were suddenly animated by ademon, he ran to the horses' heads; and pulling at their bridleswith all his force, set them struggling and plunging with such madviolence as brought their hoofs at every effort nearer to the skullof the prostrate man; and must have led in half a minute to hisbrains being dashed out on the highway.

As he did this, he fought and contended with them like a manpossessed, making them wilder by his cries.

The same shouts and the same struggles were his only answer. Butthe man darting in at the peril of his own life, saved Montague's,by dragging him through the mire and water out of the reach ofpresent harm. That done, he ran to Jonas; and with the aid of hisknife they very shortly disengaged the horses from the brokenchariot, and got them, cut and bleeding, on their legs again. Thepostillion and Jonas had now leisure to look at each other, whichthey had not had yet.

'Presence of mind, presence of mind!' cried Jonas, throwing up hishands wildly. 'What would you have done without me?'

'The other gentleman would have done badly without ME,' returned theman, shaking his head. 'You should have moved him first. I gavehim up for dead.'

'Presence of mind, you croaker, presence of mind' cried Jonas with aharsh loud laugh. 'Was he struck, do you think?'

They both turned to look at him. Jonas muttered something tohimself, when he saw him sitting up beneath the hedge, lookingvacantly around.

'What's the matter?' asked Montague. 'Is anybody hurt?'

'Ecod!' said Jonas, 'it don't seem so. There are no bones broken,after all.'

They raised him, and he tried to walk. He was a good deal shaken,and trembled very much. But with the exception of a few cuts andbruises this was all the damage he had sustained.

'I wouldn't have given sixpence for the gentleman's head in half-a-dozen seconds more, for all he's only cut and bruised,' observed thepost-boy. 'If ever you're in an accident of this sort again, sir;which I hope you won't be; never you pull at the bridle of a horsethat's down, when there's a man's head in the way. That can't bedone twice without there being a dead man in the case; it would haveended in that, this time, as sure as ever you were born, if I hadn'tcome up just when I did.'

Jonas replied by advising him with a curse to hold his tongue, andto go somewhere, whither he was not very likely to go of his ownaccord. But Montague, who had listened eagerly to every word,himself diverted the subject, by exclaiming: 'Where's the boy?'

'Ecod! I forgot that monkey,' said Jonas. 'What's become of him?' Avery brief search settled that question. The unfortunate Mr Baileyhad been thrown sheer over the hedge or the five-barred gate; andwas lying in the neighbouring field, to all appearance dead.

'When I said to-night, that I wished I had never started on thisjourney,' cried his master, 'I knew it was an ill-fated one. Lookat this boy!'

'Is that all?' growled Jonas. 'If you call THAT a sign of it--'

'Why, what should I call a sign of it?' asked Montague, hurriedly.'What do you mean?'

'I mean,' said Jonas, stooping down over the body, 'that I neverheard you were his father, or had any particular reason to care muchabout him. Halloa. Hold up there!'

But the boy was past holding up, or being held up, or giving anyother sign of life than a faint and fitful beating of the heart.After some discussion the driver mounted the horse which had beenleast injured, and took the lad in his arms as well as he could;while Montague and Jonas, leading the other horse, and carrying atrunk between them, walked by his side towards Salisbury.

'You'd get there in a few minutes, and be able to send assistance tomeet us, if you went forward, post-boy,' said Jonas. 'Trot on!'

'No, no,' cried Montague; 'we'll keep together.'

'Why, what a chicken you are! You are not afraid of being robbed;are you?' said Jonas.

'I am not afraid of anything,' replied the other, whose looks andmanner were in flat contradiction to his words. 'But we'll keeptogether.'

'You were mighty anxious about the boy, a minute ago,' said Jonas.'I suppose you know that he may die in the meantime?'

'Aye, aye. I know. But we'll keep together.'

As it was clear that he was not to be moved from this determination,Jonas made no other rejoinder than such as his face expressed; andthey proceeded in company. They had three or four good miles totravel; and the way was not made easier by the state of the road,the burden by which they were embarrassed, or their own stiff andsore condition. After a sufficiently long and painful walk, theyarrived at the Inn; and having knocked the people up (it being yetvery early in the morning), sent out messengers to see to thecarriage and its contents, and roused a surgeon from his bed to tendthe chief sufferer. All the service he could render, he renderedpromptly and skillfully. But he gave it as his opinion that the boywas labouring under a severe concussion of the brain, and that MrBailey's mortal course was run.

If Montague's strong interest in the announcement could have beenconsidered as unselfish in any degree, it might have been aredeeming trait in a character that had no such lineaments to spare.But it was not difficult to see that, for some unexpressed reasonbest appreciated by himself, he attached a strange value to thecompany and presence of this mere child. When, after receiving someassistance from the surgeon himself, he retired to the bedroomprepared for him, and it was broad day, his mind was still dwellingon this theme,

'I would rather have lost,' he said, 'a thousand pounds than lostthe boy just now. But I'll return home alone. I am resolved uponthat. Chuzzlewit shall go forward first, and I will follow in myown time. I'll have no more of this,' he added, wiping his dampforehead. 'Twenty-four hours of this would turn my hair grey!'

After examining his chamber, and looking under the bed, and in thecupboards, and even behind the curtains, with unusual caution(although it was, as has been said, broad day), he double-locked thedoor by which he had entered, and retired to rest. There wasanother door in the room, but it was locked on the outer side; andwith what place it communicated, he knew not.

His fears or evil conscience reproduced this door in all his dreams.He dreamed that a dreadful secret was connected with it; a secretwhich he knew, and yet did not know, for although he was heavilyresponsible for it, and a party to it, he was harassed even in hisvision by a distracting uncertainty in reference to its import.Incoherently entwined with this dream was another, which representedit as the hiding-place of an enemy, a shadow, a phantom; and made itthe business of his life to keep the terrible creature closed up,and prevent it from forcing its way in upon him. With this viewNadgett, and he, and a strange man with a bloody smear upon his head(who told him that he had been his playfellow, and told him, too,the real name of an old schoolmate, forgotten until then), workedwith iron plates and nails to make the door secure; but though theyworked never so hard, it was all in vain, for the nails broke, orchanged to soft twigs, or what was worse, to worms, between theirfingers; the wood of the door splintered and crumbled, so that evennails would not remain in it; and the iron plates curled up like hotpaper. All this time the creature on the other side--whether it wasin the shape of man, or beast, he neither knew nor sought to know--was gaining on them. But his greatest terror was when the man withthe bloody smear upon his head demanded of him if he knew thiscreatures name, and said that he would whisper it. At this thedreamer fell upon his knees, his whole blood thrilling withinexplicable fear, and held his ears. But looking at the speaker'slips, he saw that they formed the utterance of the letter 'J'; andcrying out aloud that the secret was discovered, and they were alllost, he awoke.

As their eyes met, Jonas retreated a few paces, and Montague sprangout of bed.

'Heyday!' said Jonas. 'You're all alive this morning.'

'Alive!' the other stammered, as he pulled the bell-rope violently.'What are you doing here?'

'It's your room to be sure,' said Jonas; 'but I'm almost inclined toask you what YOU are doing here? My room is on the other side ofthat door. No one told me last night not to open it. I thought itled into a passage, and was coming out to order breakfast. There's--there's no bell in my room.'

Montague had in the meantime admitted the man with his hot water andboots, who hearing this, said, yes, there was; and passed into theadjoining room to point it out, at the head of the bed.

Montague answered in the affirmative. When Jonas had retired,whistling, through his own room, he opened the door ofcommunication, to take out the key and fasten it on the inner side.But it was taken out already.

He dragged a table against the door, and sat down to collecthimself, as if his dreams still had some influence upon his mind.

'An evil journey,' he repeated several times. 'An evil journey.But I'll travel home alone. I'll have no more of this.'

His presentiment, or superstition, that it was an evil journey, didnot at all deter him from doing the evil for which the journey wasundertaken. With this in view, he dressed himself more carefullythan usual to make a favourable impression on Mr Pecksniff; and,reassured by his own appearance, the beauty of the morning, and theflashing of the wet boughs outside his window in the merry sunshine,was soon sufficiently inspirited to swear a few round oaths, and humthe fag-end of a song.

But he still muttered to himself at intervals, for all that: 'I'lltravel home alone!'

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

HAS AN INFLUENCE ON THE FORTUNES OF SEVERAL PEOPLE. MR PECKSNIFF ISEXHIBITED IN THE PLENITUDE OF POWER; AND WIELDS THE SAME WITHFORTITUDE AND MAGNANIMITY

On the night of the storm, Mrs Lupin, hostess of the Blue Dragon,sat by herself in her little bar. Her solitary condition, or thebad weather, or both united, made Mrs Lupin thoughtful, not to saysorrowful. As she sat with her chin upon her hand, looking outthrough a low back lattice, rendered dim in the brightest day-timeby clustering vine-leaves, she shook her head very often, and said,'Dear me! Oh, dear, dear me!'

It was a melancholy time, even in the snugness of the Dragon bar.The rich expanse of corn-field, pasture-land, green slope, andgentle undulation, with its sparkling brooks, its many hedgerows,and its clumps of beautiful trees, was black and dreary, from thediamond panes of the lattice away to the far horizon, where thethunder seemed to roll along the hills. The heavy rain beat downthe tender branches of vine and jessamine, and trampled on them inits fury; and when the lightning gleamed it showed the tearfulleaves shivering and cowering together at the window, and tapping atit urgently, as if beseeching to be sheltered from the dismal night.

As a mark of her respect for the lightning, Mrs Lupin had removedher candle to the chimney-piece. Her basket of needle-work stoodunheeded at her elbow; her supper, spread on a round table not faroff, was untasted; and the knives had been removed for fear ofattraction. She had sat for a long time with her chin upon herhand, saying to herself at intervals, 'Dear me! Ah, dear, dear me!'

She was on the eve of saying so, once more, when the latch of thehouse-door (closed to keep the rain out), rattled on its well-worncatch, and a traveller came in, who, shutting it after him, andwalking straight up to the half-door of the bar, said, rathergruffly:

'A pint of the best old beer here.'

He had some reason to be gruff, for if he had passed the day in awaterfall, he could scarcely have been wetter than he was. He waswrapped up to the eyes in a rough blue sailor's coat, and had anoil-skin hat on, from the capacious brim of which the rain felltrickling down upon his breast, and back, and shoulders. Judgingfrom a certain liveliness of chin--he had so pulled down his hat,and pulled up his collar, to defend himself from the weather, thatshe could only see his chin, and even across that he drew the wetsleeve of his shaggy coat, as she looked at him--Mrs Lupin set himdown for a good-natured fellow, too.

'A bad night!' observed the hostess cheerfully.

The traveller shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and said itwas, rather.

'There's a fire in the kitchen,' said Mrs Lupin, 'and very goodcompany there. Hadn't you better go and dry yourself?'

'No, thankee,' said the man, glancing towards the kitchen as hespoke; he seemed to know the way.

'It's enough to give you your death of cold,' observed the hostess.

'I don't take my death easy,' returned the traveller; 'or I shouldmost likely have took it afore to-night. Your health, ma'am!'

Mrs Lupin thanked him; but in the act of lifting the tankard to hismouth, he changed his mind, and put it down again. Throwing hisbody back, and looking about him stiffly, as a man does who iswrapped up, and has his hat low down over his eyes, he said:

'What do you call this house? Not the Dragon, do you?'

Mrs Lupin complacently made answer, 'Yes, the Dragon.'

'Why, then, you've got a sort of a relation of mine here, ma'am,'said the traveller; 'a young man of the name of Tapley. What! Mark,my boy!' apostrophizing the premises, 'have I come upon you at last,old buck!'

This was touching Mrs Lupin on a tender point. She turned to trimthe candle on the chimney-piece, and said, with her back towards thetraveller:

'Nobody should be made more welcome at the Dragon, master, than anyone who brought me news of Mark. But it's many and many a long dayand month since he left here and England. And whether he's alive ordead, poor fellow, Heaven above us only knows!'

She shook her head, and her voice trembled; her hand must have doneso too, for the light required a deal of trimming.

'Where did he go, ma'am?' asked the traveller, in a gentler voice.

'He went,' said Mrs Lupin, with increased distress, 'to America. Hewas always tender-hearted and kind, and perhaps at this moment maybe lying in prison under sentence of death, for taking pity on somemiserable black, and helping the poor runaway creetur to escape.How could he ever go to America! Why didn't he go to some of thosecountries where the savages eat each other fairly, and give an equalchance to every one!'

Quite subdued by this time, Mrs Lupin sobbed, and was retiring to achair to give her grief free vent, when the traveller caught her inhis arms, and she uttered a glad cry of recognition.

'Yes, I will!' cried Mark, 'another--one more--twenty more! Youdidn't know me in that hat and coat? I thought you would have knownme anywheres! Ten more!'

'So I should have known you, if I could have seen you; but Icouldn't, and you spoke so gruff. I didn't think you could speakgruff to me, Mark, at first coming back.'

'Fifteen more!' said Mr Tapley. 'How handsome and how young youlook! Six more! The last half-dozen warn't a fair one, and must bedone over again. Lord bless you, what a treat it is to see you! Onemore! Well, I never was so jolly. Just a few more, on account ofthere not being any credit in it!'

When Mr Tapley stopped in these calculations in simple addition, hedid it, not because he was at all tired of the exercise, but becausehe was out of breath. The pause reminded him of other duties.

'Mr Martin Chuzzlewit's outside,' he said. 'I left him under thecartshed, while I came on to see if there was anybody here. Wewant to keep quiet to-night, till we know the news from you, andwhat it's best for us to do.'

'There's not a soul in the house, except the kitchen company,'returned the hostess. 'If they were to know you had come back,Mark, they'd have a bonfire in the street, late as it is.'

'But they mustn't know it to-night, my precious soul,' said Mark;'so have the house shut, and the kitchen fire made up; and when it'sall ready, put a light in the winder, and we'll come in. One more!I long to hear about old friends. You'll tell me all about 'em,won't you; Mr Pinch, and the butcher's dog down the street, and theterrier over the way, and the wheelwright's, and every one of 'em.When I first caught sight of the church to-night, I thought thesteeple would have choked me, I did. One more! Won't you? Not avery little one to finish off with?'

'You have had plenty, I am sure,' said the hostess. 'Go along withyour foreign manners!'

'That ain't foreign, bless you!' cried Mark. 'Native as oysters,that is! One more, because it's native! As a mark of respect for theland we live in! This don't count as between you and me, youunderstand,' said Mr Tapley. 'I ain't a-kissing you now, you'llobserve. I have been among the patriots; I'm a-kissin' my country.'

It would have been very unreasonable to complain of the exhibitionof his patriotism with which he followed up this explanation, thatit was at all lukewarm or indifferent. When he had given fullexpression to his nationality, he hurried off to Martin; while MrsLupin, in a state of great agitation and excitement, prepared fortheir reception.

The company soon came tumbling out; insisting to each other that theDragon clock was half an hour too fast, and that the thunder musthave affected it. Impatient, wet, and weary though they were,Martin and Mark were overjoyed to see these old faces, and watchedthem with delighted interest as they departed from the house, andpassed close by them.

'There's the old tailor, Mark!' whispered Martin.

'There he goes, sir! A little bandier than he was, I think, sir,ain't he? His figure's so far altered, as it seems to me, that youmight wheel a rather larger barrow between his legs as he walks,than you could have done conveniently when we know'd him. There'sSam a-coming out, sir.'

'Ah, to be sure!' cried Martin; 'Sam, the hostler. I wonder whetherthat horse of Pecksniff's is alive still?'

'Not a doubt on it, sir,' returned Mark. 'That's a description ofanimal, sir, as will go on in a bony way peculiar to himself for along time, and get into the newspapers at last under the title of"Sing'lar Tenacity of Life in a Quadruped." As if he had ever beenalive in all his life, worth mentioning! There's the clerk, sir--wery drunk, as usual.'

'I see him!' said Martin, laughing. 'But, my life, how wet you are,Mark!'

'I am! What do you consider yourself, sir?'

'Oh, not half as bad,' said his fellow-traveller, with an air ofgreat vexation. 'I told you not to keep on the windy side, Mark,but to let us change and change about. The rain has been beating onyou ever since it began.'

'You don't know how it pleases me, sir,' said Mark, after a shortsilence, 'if I may make so bold as say so, to hear you a-going on inthat there uncommon considerate way of yours; which I don't mean toattend to, never, but which, ever since that time when I was flooredin Eden, you have showed.'

'Ah, Mark!' sighed Martin, 'the less we say of that the better. DoI see the light yonder?'

'That's the light!' cried Mark. 'Lord bless her, what briskness shepossesses! Now for it, sir. Neat wines, good beds, and first-rateentertainment for man or beast.'

The kitchen fire burnt clear and red, the table was spread out, thekettle boiled; the slippers were there, the boot-jack too, sheets ofham were there, cooking on the gridiron; half-a-dozen eggs werethere, poaching in the frying-pan; a plethoric cherry-brandy bottlewas there, winking at a foaming jug of beer upon the table; rareprovisions were there, dangling from the rafters as if you had onlyto open your mouth, and something exquisitely ripe and good would beglad of the excuse for tumbling into it. Mrs Lupin, who for theirsakes had dislodged the very cook, high priestess of the temple,with her own genial hands was dressing their repast.

It was impossible to help it--a ghost must have hugged her. TheAtlantic Ocean and the Red Sea being, in that respect, all one,Martin hugged her instantly. Mr Tapley (as if the idea were quitenovel, and had never occurred to him before), followed, with muchgravity, on the same side.

'Little did I ever think,' said Mrs Lupin, adjusting her cap andlaughing heartily; yes, and blushing too; 'often as I have said thatMr Pecksniff's young gentlemen were the life and soul of the Dragon,and that without them it would be too dull to live in--little did Iever think I am sure, that any one of them would ever make so freeas you, Mr Martin! And still less that I shouldn't be angry withhim, but should be glad with all my heart to be the first to welcomehim home from America, with Mark Tapley for his--'

'For his friend, Mrs Lupin,' interposed Martin.

'For his friend,' said the hostess, evidently gratified by thisdistinction, but at the same time admonishing Mr Tapley with a forkto remain at a respectful distance. 'Little did I ever think that!But still less, that I should ever have the changes to relate that Ishall have to tell you of, when you have done your supper!'

'Good Heaven!' cried Martin, changing colour, 'what changes?'

'SHE,' said the hostess, 'is quite well, and now at Mr Pecksniff's.Don't be at all alarmed about her. She is everything you couldwish. It's of no use mincing matters, or making secrets, is it?'added Mrs Lupin. 'I know all about it, you see!'

'My good creature,' returned Martin, 'you are exactly the person whoought to know all about it. I am delighted to think you DO knowabout that! But what changes do you hint at? Has any deathoccurred?'

'No, no!' said the hostess. 'Not as bad as that. But I declare nowthat I will not be drawn into saying another word till you have hadyour supper. If you ask me fifty questions in the meantime, I won'tanswer one.'

She was so positive, that there was nothing for it but to get thesupper over as quickly as possible; and as they had been walking agreat many miles, and had fasted since the middle of the day, theydid no great violence to their own inclinations in falling on ittooth and nail. It took rather longer to get through than mighthave been expected; for, half-a-dozen times, when they thought theyhad finished, Mrs Lupin exposed the fallacy of that impressiontriumphantly. But at last, in the course of time and nature, theygave in. Then, sitting with their slippered feet stretched out uponthe kitchen hearth (which was wonderfully comforting, for the nighthad grown by this time raw and chilly), and looking with involuntaryadmiration at their dimpled, buxom, blooming hostess, as thefirelight sparkled in her eyes and glimmered in her raven hair, theycomposed themselves to listen to her news.

Many were the exclamations of surprise which interrupted her, whenshe told them of the separation between Mr Pecksniff and hisdaughters, and between the same good gentleman and Mr Pinch. Butthese were nothing to the indignant demonstrations of Martin, whenshe related, as the common talk of the neighbourhood, what entirepossession he had obtained over the mind and person of old MrChuzzlewit, and what high honour he designed for Mary. On receiptof this intelligence, Martin's slippers flew off in a twinkling, andhe began pulling on his wet boots with that indefinite intention ofgoing somewhere instantly, and doing something to somebody, which isthe first safety-valve of a hot temper.

You do!' retorted Martin angrily. 'I am much obliged to you. Whatdo you take me for?'

'I take you for what you are, sir,' said Mark; 'and, consequently,am quite sure that whatever you do will be right and sensible. Theboot, sir.'

Martin darted an impatient look at him, without taking it, andwalked rapidly up and down the kitchen several times, with one bootand a stocking on. But, mindful of his Eden resolution, he hadalready gained many victories over himself when Mark was in the case,and he resolved to conquer now. So he came back to the book-jack,laid his hand on Mark's shoulder to steady himself, pulled the bootoff, picked up his slippers, put them on, and sat down again. Hecould not help thrusting his hands to the very bottom of hispockets, and muttering at intervals, 'Pecksniff too! That fellow!Upon my soul! In-deed! What next?' and so forth; nor could he helpoccasionally shaking his fist at the chimney, with a verythreatening countenance; but this did not last long; and he heardMrs Lupin out, if not with composure, at all events in silence.

'As to Mr Pecksniff himself,' observed the hostess in conclusion,spreading out the skirts of her gown with both hands, and noddingher head a great many times as she did so, 'I don't know what tosay. Somebody must have poisoned his mind, or influenced him insome extraordinary way. I cannot believe that such a noble-spokengentleman would go and do wrong of his own accord!'

A noble-spoken gentleman! How many people are there in the world,who, for no better reason, uphold their Pecksniffs to the last andabandon virtuous men, when Pecksniffs breathe upon them!

'As to Mr Pinch,' pursued the landlady, 'if ever there was a dear,good, pleasant, worthy soul alive, Pinch, and no other, is his name.But how do we know that old Mr Chuzzlewit himself was not the causeof difference arising between him and Mr Pecksniff? No one butthemselves can tell; for Mr Pinch has a proud spirit, though he hassuch a quiet way; and when he left us, and was so sorry to go, hescorned to make his story good, even to me.'

'Poor old Tom!' said Martin, in a tone that sounded like remorse.

'It's a comfort to know,' resumed the landlady, 'that he has hissister living with him, and is doing well. Only yesterday he sentme back, by post, a little'--here the colour came into her cheeks--'a little trifle I was bold enough to lend him when he went away;saying, with many thanks, that he had good employment, and didn'twant it. It was the same note; he hadn't broken it. I neverthought I could have been so little pleased to see a bank-note comeback to me as I was to see that.'

'Kindly said, and heartily!' said Martin. 'Is it not, Mark?'

'She can't say anything as does not possess them qualities,'returned Mr Tapley; 'which as much belongs to the Dragon as itslicence. And now that we have got quite cool and fresh, to thesubject again, sir; what will you do? If you're not proud, and canmake up your mind to go through with what you spoke of, coming along,that's the course for you to take. If you started wrong with yourgrandfather (which, you'll excuse my taking the liberty of saying,appears to have been the case), up with you, sir, and tell him so,and make an appeal to his affections. Don't stand out. He's agreat deal older than you, and if he was hasty, you was hasty too.Give way, sir, give way.'

The eloquence of Mr Tapley was not without its effect on Martin buthe still hesitated, and expressed his reason thus:

'That's all very true, and perfectly correct, Mark; and if it werea mere question of humbling myself before HIM, I would not considerit twice. But don't you see, that being wholly under thishypocrite's government, and having (if what we hear be true) no mindor will of his own, I throw myself, in fact, not at his feet, but atthe feet of Mr Pecksniff? And when I am rejected and spurned away,'said Martin, turning crimson at the thought, 'it is not by him; myown blood stirred against me; but by Pecksniff--Pecksniff, Mark!'

'Well, but we know beforehand,' returned the politic Mr Tapley,'that Pecksniff is a wagabond, a scoundrel, and a willain.'

'A most pernicious villain!' said Martin.

'A most pernicious willain. We know that beforehand, sir; and,consequently, it's no shame to be defeated by Pecksniff. BlowPecksniff!' cried Mr Tapley, in the fervour of his eloquence.'Who's he! It's not in the natur of Pecksniff to shame US, unless heagreed with us, or done us a service; and, in case he offered anyaudacity of that description, we could express our sentiments in theEnglish language, I hope. Pecksniff!' repeated Mr Tapley, withineffable disdain. 'What's Pecksniff, who's Pecksniff, where'sPecksniff, that he's to be so much considered? We're not a-calculating for ourselves;' he laid uncommon emphasis on the lastsyllable of that word, and looked full in Martin's face; 'we'remaking a effort for a young lady likewise as has undergone hershare; and whatever little hope we have, this here Pecksniff is notto stand in its way, I expect. I never heard of any act ofParliament, as was made by Pecksniff. Pecksniff! Why, I wouldn'tsee the man myself; I wouldn't hear him; I wouldn't choose to knowhe was in company. I'd scrape my shoes on the scraper of the door,and call that Pecksniff, if you liked; but I wouldn't condescend nofurther.'

The amazement of Mrs Lupin, and indeed of Mr Tapley himself for thatmatter, at this impassioned flow of language, was immense. ButMartin, after looking thoughtfully at the fire for a short time,said:

'You are right, Mark. Right or wrong, it shall be done. I'll doit.'

'One word more, sir,' returned Mark. 'Only think of him so far asnot to give him a handle against you. Don't you do anything secretthat he can report before you get there. Don't you even see MissMary in the morning, but let this here dear friend of ours'--MrTapley bestowed a smile upon the hostess--'prepare her for what's a-going to happen, and carry any little message as may be agreeable.She knows how. Don't you?' Mrs Lupin laughed and tossed her head.'Then you go in, bold and free as a gentleman should. "I haven'tdone nothing under-handed," says you. "I haven't been skulkingabout the premises, here I am, for-give me, I ask your pardon, GodBless You!"'

Martin smiled, but felt that it was good advice notwithstanding, andresolved to act upon it. When they had ascertained from Mrs Lupinthat Pecksniff had already returned from the great ceremonial atwhich they had beheld him in his glory; and when they had fullyarranged the order of their proceedings; they went to bed, intentupon the morrow.

In pursuance of their project as agreed upon at this discussion, MrTapley issued forth next morning, after breakfast, charged with aletter from Martin to his grandfather, requesting leave to wait uponhim for a few minutes. And postponing as he went along thecongratulations of his numerous friends until a more convenientseason, he soon arrived at Mr Pecksniff's house. At thatgentleman's door; with a face so immovable that it would have beennext to an impossibility for the most acute physiognomist todetermine what he was thinking about, or whether he was thinking atall; he straightway knocked.

A person of Mr Tapley's observation could not long remain insensibleto the fact that Mr Pecksniff was making the end of his nose veryblunt against the glass of the parlour window, in an angular attemptto discover who had knocked at the door. Nor was Mr Tapley slow tobaffle this movement on the part of the enemy, by perching himselfon the top step, and presenting the crown of his hat in thatdirection. But possibly Mr Pecksniff had already seen him, for Marksoon heard his shoes creaking, as he advanced to open the door withhis own hands.

Mr Pecksniff was as cheerful as ever, and sang a little song in thepassage.

'The gentleman it comes from wrote his name inside, sir,' returnedMr Tapley with extreme politeness. 'I see him a-signing of it atthe end, while I was a-waitin'.'

'And he said he wanted an answer, did he?' asked Mr Pecksniff in hismost persuasive manner.

Mark replied in the affirmative.

'He shall have an answer. Certainly,' said Mr Pecksniff, tearingthe letter into small pieces, as mildly as if that were the mostflattering attention a correspondent could receive. 'Have thegoodness to give him that, with my compliments, if you please. Goodmorning!' Whereupon he handed Mark the scraps; retired, and shut thedoor.

Mark thought it prudent to subdue his personal emotions, and returnto Martin at the Dragon. They were not unprepared for such areception, and suffered an hour or so to elapse before makinganother attempt. When this interval had gone by, they returned toMr Pecksniff's house in company. Martin knocked this time, while MrTapley prepared himself to keep the door open with his foot andshoulder, when anybody came, and by that means secure an enforcedparley. But this precaution was needless, for the servant-girlappeared almost immediately. Brushing quickly past her as he hadresolved in such a case to do, Martin (closely followed by hisfaithful ally) opened the door of that parlour in which he knew avisitor was most likely to be found; passed at once into the room;and stood, without a word of notice or announcement, in the presenceof his grandfather.

Mr Pecksniff also was in the room; and Mary. In the swift instantof their mutual recognition, Martin saw the old man droop his greyhead, and hide his face in his hands.

It smote him to the heart. In his most selfish and most carelessday, this lingering remnant of the old man's ancient love, thisbuttress of a ruined tower he had built up in the time gone by, withso much pride and hope, would have caused a pang in Martin's heart.But now, changed for the better in his worst respect; lookingthrough an altered medium on his former friend, the guardian of hischildhood, so broken and bowed down; resentment, sullenness,self-confidence, and pride, were all swept away, before the startingtears upon the withered cheeks. He could not bear to see them. Hecould not bear to think they fell at sight of him. He could notbear to view reflected in them, the reproachful and irrevocablePast.

He hurriedly advanced to seize the old man's hand in his, when MrPecksniff interposed himself between them.

'No, young man!' said Mr Pecksniff, striking himself upon thebreast, and stretching out his other arm towards his guest as if itwere a wing to shelter him. 'No, sir. None of that. Strike here,sir, here! Launch your arrows at me, sir, if you'll have thegoodness; not at Him!'

'Grandfather!' cried Martin. 'Hear me! I implore you, let mespeak!'

'Would you, sir? Would you?' said Mr Pecksniff, dodging about, soas to keep himself always between them. 'Is it not enough, sir,that you come into my house like a thief in the night, or I shouldrather say, for we can never be too particular on the subject ofTruth, like a thief in the day-time; bringing your dissolutecompanions with you, to plant themselves with their backs againstthe insides of parlour doors, and prevent the entrance or issuingforth of any of my household'--Mark had taken up this position, andheld it quite unmoved--'but would you also strike at venerableVirtue? Would you? Know that it is not defenceless. I will be itsshield, young man. Assail me. Come on, sir. Fire away!'

'Pecksniff,' said the old man, in a feeble voice. 'Calm yourself.Be quiet.'

'I can't be calm,' cried Mr Pecksniff, 'and I won't be quiet. Mybenefactor and my friend! Shall even my house be no refuge for yourhoary pillow!'

'Stand aside!' said the old man, stretching out his hand; 'and letme see what it is I used to love so dearly.'

'It is right that you should see it, my friend,' said Mr Pecksniff.'It is well that you should see it, my noble sir. It is desirablethat you should contemplate it in its true proportions. Behold it!There it is, sir. There it is!'

Martin could hardly be a mortal man, and not express in his facesomething of the anger and disdain with which Mr Pecksniff inspiredhim. But beyond this he evinced no knowledge whatever of thatgentleman's presence or existence. True, he had once, and that atfirst, glanced at him involuntarily, and with supreme contempt; butfor any other heed he took of him, there might have been nothing inhis place save empty air.

As Mr Pecksniff withdrew from between them, agreeably to the wishjust now expressed (which he did during the delivery of theobservations last recorded), old Martin, who had taken Mary Graham'shand in his, and whispered kindly to her, as telling her she had nocause to be alarmed, gently pushed her from him, behind his chair;and looked steadily at his grandson.

'And that,' he said, 'is he. Ah! that is he! Say what you wish tosay. But come no nearer,'

'His sense of justice is so fine,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'that he willhear even him, although he knows beforehand that nothing can come ofit. Ingenuous mind!' Mr Pecksniff did not address himselfimmediately to any person in saying this, but assuming the positionof the Chorus in a Greek Tragedy, delivered his opinion as acommentary on the proceedings.

'Grandfather!' said Martin, with great earnestness. 'From a painfuljourney, from a hard life, from a sick-bed, from privation anddistress, from gloom and disappointment, from almost hopelessnessand despair, I have come back to you.'

'Rovers of this sort,' observed Mr Pecksniff, as Chorus, 'verycommonly come back when they find they don't meet with the successthey expected in their marauding ravages.'

'But for this faithful man,' said Martin, turning towards Mark,'whom I first knew in this place, and who went away with mevoluntarily, as a servant, but has been, throughout, my zealous anddevoted friend; but for him, I must have died abroad. Far fromhome, far from any help or consolation; far from the probabilityeven of my wretched fate being ever known to any one who cared tohear it--oh, that you would let me say, of being known to you!'

The old man looked at Mr Pecksniff. Mr Pecksniff looked at him.'Did you speak, my worthy sir?' said Mr Pecksniff, with a smile.The old man answered in the negative. 'I know what you thought,'said Mr Pecksniff, with another smile. 'Let him go on my friend.The development of self-interest in the human mind is always acurious study. Let him go on, sir.'

'Go on!' observed the old man; in a mechanical obedience, itappeared, to Mr Pecksniff's suggestion.

'I have been so wretched and so poor,' said Martin, 'that I amindebted to the charitable help of a stranger, in a land ofstrangers, for the means of returning here. All this tells againstme in your mind, I know. I have given you cause to think I havebeen driven here wholly by want, and have not been led on, in anydegree, by affection or regret. When I parted from you,Grandfather, I deserved that suspicion, but I do not now. I do notnow.'

The Chorus put its hand in its waistcoat, and smiled. 'Let him goon, my worthy sir,' it said. 'I know what you are thinking of, butdon't express it prematurely.'

Old Martin raised his eyes to Mr Pecksniff's face, and appearing toderive renewed instruction from his looks and words, said, onceagain:

'Go on!'

'I have little more to say,' returned Martin. 'And as I say it now,with little or no hope, Grandfather; whatever dawn of hope I had onentering the room; believe it to be true. At least, believe it tobe true.'

'Beautiful Truth!' exclaimed the Chorus, looking upward. 'How isyour name profaned by vicious persons! You don't live in a well, myholy principle, but on the lips of false mankind. It is hard tobear with mankind, dear sir'--addressing the elder Mr Chuzzlewit;'but let us do so meekly. It is our duty so to do. Let us be amongthe Few who do their duty. If,' pursued the Chorus, soaring up intoa lofty flight, 'as the poet informs us, England expects Every manto do his duty, England is the most sanguine country on the face ofthe earth, and will find itself continually disappointed.'

'Upon that subject,' said Martin, looking calmly at the old man ashe spoke, but glancing once at Mary, whose face was now buried inher hands, upon the back of his easy-chair; 'upon that subject whichfirst occasioned a division between us, my mind and heart areincapable of change. Whatever influence they have undergone, sincethat unhappy time, has not been one to weaken but to strengthen me.I cannot profess sorrow for that, nor irresolution in that, norshame in that. Nor would you wish me, I know. But that I mighthave trusted to your love, if I had thrown myself manfully upon it;that I might have won you over with ease, if I had been moreyielding and more considerate; that I should have best rememberedmyself in forgetting myself, and recollecting you; reflection,solitude, and misery, have taught me. I came resolved to say this,and to ask your forgiveness; not so much in hope for the future, asin regret for the past; for all that I would ask of you is, that youwould aid me to live. Help me to get honest work to do, and I woulddo it. My condition places me at the disadvantage of seeming tohave only my selfish ends to serve, but try if that be so or not.Try if I be self-willed, obdurate, and haughty, as I was; or havebeen disciplined in a rough school. Let the voice of nature andassociation plead between us, Grandfather; and do not, for onefault, however thankless, quite reject me!'

As he ceased, the grey head of the old man drooped again; and heconcealed his face behind his outspread fingers.

'My dear sir,' cried Mr Pecksniff, bending over him, 'you must notgive way to this. It is very natural, and very amiable, but youmust not allow the shameless conduct of one whom you long ago castoff, to move you so far. Rouse yourself. Think,' said Pecksniff,'think of Me, my friend.'

'I will,' returned old Martin, looking up into his face. 'Yourecall me to myself. I will.'

'Why, what,' said Mr Pecksniff, sitting down beside him in a chairwhich he drew up for the purpose, and tapping him playfully on thearm, 'what is the matter with my strong-minded compatriot, if I mayventure to take the liberty of calling him by that endearingexpression? Shall I have to scold my coadjutor, or to reason withan intellect like this? I think not.'

'No, no. There is no occasion,' said the old man. 'A momentaryfeeling. Nothing more.'

'Yes,' said old Martin, leaning back in his chair, and looking athim, half in vacancy and half in admiration, as if he werefascinated by the man. 'Speak for me, Pecksniff, Thank you. Youare true to me. Thank you!'

'Do not unman me, sir,' said Mr Pecksniff, shaking his handvigorously, 'or I shall be unequal to the task. It is not agreeableto my feelings, my good sir, to address the person who is now beforeus, for when I ejected him from this house, after hearing of hisunnatural conduct from your lips, I renounced communication with himfor ever. But you desire it; and that is sufficient. Young man!The door is immediately behind the companion of your infamy. Blushif you can; begone without a blush, if you can't.'

Martin looked as steadily at his grandfather as if there had been adead silence all this time. The old man looked no less steadily atMr Pecksniff.

'When I ordered you to leave this house upon the last occasion ofyour being dismissed from it with disgrace,' said Mr Pecksniff;'when, stung and stimulated beyond endurance by your shamelessconduct to this extraordinarily noble-minded individual, I exclaimed"Go forth!" I told you that I wept for your depravity. Do notsuppose that the tear which stands in my eye at this moment, is shedfor you. It is shed for him, sir. It is shed for him.'

Here Mr Pecksniff, accidentally dropping the tear in question on abald part of Mr Chuzzlewit's head, wiped the place with his pocket-handkerchief, and begged pardon.

'It is shed for him, sir, whom you seek to make the victim of yourarts,' said Mr Pecksniff; 'whom you seek to plunder, to deceive, andto mislead. It is shed in sympathy with him, and admiration of him;not in pity for him, for happily he knows what you are. You shallnot wrong him further, sir, in any way,' said Mr Pecksniff, quitetransported with enthusiasm, 'while I have life. You may bestridemy senseless corse, sir. That is very likely. I can imagine a mindlike yours deriving great satisfaction from any measure of thatkind. But while I continue to be called upon to exist, sir, youmust strike at him through me. Awe!' said Mr Pecksniff, shaking hishead at Martin with indignant jocularity; 'and in such a cause youwill find me, my young sir, an Ugly Customer!'

Still Martin looked steadily and mildly at his grandfather. 'Willyou give me no answer,' he said, at length, 'not a word?'

'You hear what has been said,' replied the old man, without avertinghis eyes from the face of Mr Pecksniff; who nodded encouragingly.

'I have not heard your voice. I have not heard your spirit,'returned Martin.

'Tell him again,' said the old man, still gazing up in MrPecksniff's face.

'I only hear,' replied Martin, strong in his purpose from the first,and stronger in it as he felt how Pecksniff winced and shrunkbeneath his contempt; 'I only hear what you say to me, grandfather.'

Perhaps it was well for Mr Pecksniff that his venerable friend foundin his (Mr Pecksniff's) features an exclusive and engrossing objectof contemplation, for if his eyes had gone astray, and he hadcompared young Martin's bearing with that of his zealous defender,the latter disinterested gentleman would scarcely have shown togreater advantage than on the memorable afternoon when he took TomPinch's last receipt in full of all demands. One really might havethought there was some quality in Mr Pecksniff--an emanation fromthe brightness and purity within him perhaps--which set off andadorned his foes; they looked so gallant and so manly beside him.

'Not a word?' said Martin, for the second time.

'I remember that I have a word to say, Pecksniff,' observed the oldman. 'But a word. You spoke of being indebted to the charitablehelp of some stranger for the means of returning to England. Who ishe? And what help in money did he render you?'

Although he asked this question of Martin, he did not look towardshim, but kept his eyes on Mr Pecksniff as before. It appeared tohave become a habit with him, both in a literal and figurativesense, to look to Mr Pecksniff alone.

Martin took out his pencil, tore a leaf from his pocket-book, andhastily wrote down the particulars of his debt to Mr Bevan. The oldman stretched out his hand for the paper, and took it; but his eyesdid not wander from Mr Pecksniff's face.

'It would be a poor pride and a false humility,' said Martin, in alow voice, 'to say, I do not wish that to be paid, or that I haveany present hope of being able to pay it. But I never felt mypoverty so deeply as I feel it now.'

'Read it to me, Pecksniff,' said the old man.

Mr Pecksniff, after approaching the perusal of the paper as if itwere a manuscript confession of a murder, complied.

'I think, Pecksniff,' said old Martin, 'I could wish that to bedischarged. I should not like the lender, who was abroad, who hadno opportunity of making inquiry, and who did (as he thought) a kindaction, to suffer.'

'It shall not be a precedent,' returned the old man. 'It is theonly recognition of him. But we will talk of it again. You shalladvise me. There is nothing else?'

'Nothing else,' said Mr Pecksniff buoyantly, 'but for you to recoverthis intrusion--this cowardly and indefensible outrage on yourfeelings--with all possible dispatch, and smile again.'

'You have nothing more to say?' inquired the old man, laying hishand with unusual earnestness on Mr Pecksniff's sleeve.

Mr Pecksniff would not say what rose to his lips. For reproaches heobserved, were useless.

'You have nothing at all to urge? You are sure of that! If you have,no matter what it is, speak freely. I will oppose nothing that youask of me,' said the old man.

The tears rose in such abundance to Mr Pecksniff's eyes at thisproof of unlimited confidence on the part of his friend, that he wasfain to clasp the bridge of his nose convulsively before he could atall compose himself. When he had the power of utterance again, hesaid with great emotion, that he hoped he should live to deservethis; and added, that he had no other observation whatever to make.

For a few moments the old man sat looking at him, with that blankand motionless expression which is not uncommon in the faces ofthose whose faculties are on the wane, in age. But he rose upfirmly too, and walked towards the door, from which Mark withdrew tomake way for him.

The obsequious Mr Pecksniff proffered his arm. The old man took it.Turning at the door, he said to Martin, waving him off with hishand,

'You have heard him. Go away. It is all over. Go!'

Mr Pecksniff murmured certain cheering expressions of sympathy andencouragement as they retired; and Martin, awakening from the stuporinto which the closing portion of this scene had plunged him, to theopportunity afforded by their departure, caught the innocent causeof all in his embrace, and pressed her to his heart.

'Dear girl!' said Martin. 'He has not changed you. Why, what animpotent and harmless knave the fellow is!'

'You have restrained yourself so nobly! You have borne so much!'

'Restrained myself!' cried Martin, cheerfully. 'You were by, andwere unchanged, I knew. What more advantage did I want? The sightof me was such a bitterness to the dog, that I had my triumph in hisbeing forced to endure it. But tell me, love--for the few hastywords we can exchange now are precious--what is this which has beenrumoured to me? Is it true that you are persecuted by this knave'saddresses?'

'I was, dear Martin, and to some extent am now; but my chief sourceof unhappiness has been anxiety for you. Why did you leave us insuch terrible suspense?'

'Sickness, distance; the dread of hinting at our real condition,the impossibility of concealing it except in perfect silence; theknowledge that the truth would have pained you infinitely more thanuncertainty and doubt,' said Martin, hurriedly; as indeed everythingelse was done and said, in those few hurried moments, 'were thecauses of my writing only once. But Pecksniff? You needn't fear totell me the whole tale; for you saw me with him face to face,hearing him speak, and not taking him by the throat; what is thehistory of his pursuit of you? Is it known to my grandfather?'

'I do not think,' said Mary, 'it was known to him at first. Whenthis man had sufficiently prepared his mind, he revealed it to himby degrees. I think so, but I only know it from my own impression:now from anything they told me. Then he spoke to me alone.'

'My grandfather did?' said Martin.

'Yes--spoke to me alone, and told me--'

'What the hound had said,' cried Martin. 'Don't repeat it.'

'And said I knew well what qualities he possessed; that he wasmoderately rich; in good repute; and high in his favour andconfidence. But seeing me very much distressed, he said that hewould not control or force my inclinations, but would contenthimself with telling me the fact. He would not pain me by dwellingon it, or reverting to it; nor has he ever done so since, but hastruly kept his word.'

'The man himself?--' asked Martin.

'He has had few opportunities of pursuing his suit. I have neverwalked out alone, or remained alone an instant in his presence.Dear Martin, I must tell you,' she continued, 'that the kindness ofyour grandfather to me remains unchanged. I am his companion still.An indescribable tenderness and compassion seem to have mingledthemselves with his old regard; and if I were his only child, Icould not have a gentler father. What former fancy or old habitsurvives in this, when his heart has turned so cold to you, is amystery I cannot penetrate; but it has been, and it is, a happinessto me, that I remained true to him; that if he should wake from hisdelusion, even at the point of death, I am here, love, to recall youto his thoughts.'

Martin looked with admiration on her glowing face, and pressed hislips to hers.

'I have sometimes heard, and read,' she said, 'that those whosepowers had been enfeebled long ago, and whose lives had faded, as itwere, into a dream, have been known to rouse themselves beforedeath, and inquire for familiar faces once very dear to them; butforgotten, unrecognized, hated even, in the meantime. Think, ifwith his old impressions of this man, he should suddenly resume hisformer self, and find in him his only friend!'

'I would not urge you to abandon him, dearest,' said Martin, 'thoughI could count the years we are to wear out asunder. But theinfluence this fellow exercises over him has steadily increased, Ifear.'

She could not help admitting that. Steadily, imperceptibly, andsurely, until it was paramount and supreme. She herself had none;and yet he treated her with more affection than at any previoustime. Martin thought the inconsistency a part of his weakness anddecay.

'Does the influence extend to fear?' said Martin. 'Is he timid ofasserting his own opinion in the presence of this infatuation? Ifancied so just now.'

'I have thought so, often. Often when we are sitting alone, almostas we used to do, and I have been reading a favourite book to him orhe has been talking quite cheerfully, I have observed that theentrance of Mr Pecksniff has changed his whole demeanour. He hasbroken off immediately, and become what you have seen to-day. Whenwe first came here he had his impetuous outbreaks, in which it wasnot easy for Mr Pecksniff with his utmost plausibility to appeasehim. But these have long since dwindled away. He defers to him ineverything, and has no opinion upon any question, but that which isforced upon him by this treacherous man.'

Such was the account, rapidly furnished in whispers, andinterrupted, brief as it was, by many false alarms of Mr Pecksniff'sreturn; which Martin received of his grandfather's decline, and ofthat good gentleman's ascendancy. He heard of Tom Pinch too, andJonas too, with not a little about himself into the bargain; forthough lovers are remarkable for leaving a great deal unsaid on alloccasions, and very properly desiring to come back and say it, theyare remarkable also for a wonderful power of condensation, and can,in one way or other, give utterance to more language--eloquentlanguage--in any given short space of time, than all the six hundredand fifty-eight members in the Commons House of Parliament of theUnited Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland; who are strong loversno doubt, but of their country only, which makes all the difference;for in a passion of that kind (which is not always returned), it isthe custom to use as many words as possible, and express nothingwhatever.

A caution from Mr Tapley; a hasty interchange of farewells, and ofsomething else which the proverb says must not be told ofafterwards; a white hand held out to Mr Tapley himself, which hekissed with the devotion of a knight-errant; more farewells, moresomething else's; a parting word from Martin that he would writefrom London and would do great things there yet (Heaven knows what,but he quite believed it); and Mark and he stood on the outside ofthe Pecksniffian halls.

'A short interview after such an absence!' said Martin, sorrowfully.'But we are well out of the house. We might have placed ourselvesin a false position by remaining there, even so long, Mark.'

'I don't know about ourselves, sir,' he returned; 'but somebody elsewould have got into a false position, if he had happened to comeback again, while we was there. I had the door all ready, sir. IfPecksniff had showed his head, or had only so much as listenedbehind it, I would have caught him like a walnut. He's the sort ofman,' added Mr Tapley, musing, 'as would squeeze soft, I know.'

A person who was evidently going to Mr Pecksniff's house, passedthem at this moment. He raised his eyes at the mention of thearchitect's name; and when he had gone on a few yards, stopped andgazed at them. Mr Tapley, also, looked over his shoulder, and sodid Martin; for the stranger, as he passed, had looked very sharplyat them.

'Who may that be, I wonder!' said Martin. 'The face seems familiarto me, but I don't know the man.'

'He seems to have a amiable desire that his face should be tolerablefamiliar to us,' said Mr Tapley, 'for he's a-staring pretty hard.He'd better not waste his beauty, for he ain't got much to spare.'

Coming in sight of the Dragon, they saw a travelling carriage at thedoor.

'And a Salisbury carriage, eh?' said Mr Tapley. 'That's what hecame in depend upon it. What's in the wind now? A new pupil, Ishouldn't wonder. P'raps it's a order for another grammar-school,of the same pattern as the last.'

Before they could enter at the door, Mrs Lupin came running out; andbeckoning them to the carriage showed them a portmanteau with thename of CHUZZLEWIT upon it.

'Miss Pecksniff's husband that was,' said the good woman to Martin.'I didn't know what terms you might be on, and was quite in a worrytill you came back.'

'He and I have never interchanged a word yet,' observed Martin; 'andas I have no wish to be better or worse acquainted with him, I willnot put myself in his way. We passed him on the road, I have nodoubt. I am glad he timed his coming as he did. Upon my word! MissPecksniff's husband travels gayly!'

'A very fine-looking gentleman with him--in the best room now,'whispered Mrs Lupin, glancing up at the window as they went into thehouse. 'He has ordered everything that can be got for dinner; andhas the glossiest moustaches and whiskers ever you saw.'

'Has he?' cried Martin, 'why then we'll endeavour to avoid him too,in the hope that our self-denial may be strong enough for thesacrifice. It is only for a few hours,' said Martin, droppingwearily into a chair behind the little screen in the bar. 'Ourvisit has met with no success, my dear Mrs Lupin, and I must go toLondon.'

'Dear, dear!' cried the hostess.

'Yes, one foul wind no more makes a winter, than one swallow makes asummer. I'll try it again. Tom Pinch has succeeded. With hisadvice to guide me, I may do the same. I took Tom under myprotection once, God save the mark!' said Martin, with a melancholysmile; 'and promised I would make his fortune. Perhaps Tom willtake me under HIS protection now, and teach me how to earn mybread.'

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

FURTHER CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND

It was a special quality, among the many admirable qualitiespossessed by Mr Pecksniff, that the more he was found out, the morehypocrisy he practised. Let him be discomfited in one quarter, andhe refreshed and recompensed himself by carrying the war intoanother. If his workings and windings were detected by A, so muchthe greater reason was there for practicing without loss of time onB, if it were only to keep his hand in. He had never been such asaintly and improving spectacle to all about him, as after hisdetection by Thomas Pinch. He had scarcely ever been at once sotender in his humanity, and so dignified and exalted in his virtue,as when young Martin's scorn was fresh and hot upon him.

Having this large stock of superfluous sentiment and morality onhand which must positively be cleared off at any sacrifice, MrPecksniff no sooner heard his son-in-law announced, than he regardedhim as a kind of wholesale or general order, to be immediatelyexecuted. Descending, therefore, swiftly to the parlour, andclasping the young man in his arms, he exclaimed, with looks andgestures that denoted the perturbation of his spirit:

'Jonas. My child--she is well! There is nothing the matter?'

'What, you're at it again, are you?' replied his son-in-law. 'Evenwith me? Get away with you, will you?'

'Tell me she is well then,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'Tell me she is wellmy boy!'

'There is nothing the matter with her!' cried Mr Pecksniff, sittingdown in the nearest chair, and rubbing up his hair. 'Fie upon myweakness! I cannot help it, Jonas. Thank you. I am better now.How is my other child; my eldest; my Cherrywerrychigo?' said MrPecksniff, inventing a playful little name for her, in the restoredlightness of his heart.

'She's much about the same as usual,' returned Jonas. 'She stickspretty close to the vinegar-bottle. You know she's got asweetheart, I suppose?'

'I have heard of it,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'from headquarters; from mychild herself I will not deny that it moved me to contemplate theloss of my remaining daughter, Jonas--I am afraid we parents areselfish, I am afraid we are--but it has ever been the study of mylife to qualify them for the domestic hearth; and it is a spherewhich Cherry will adorn.'

'She need adorn some sphere or other,' observed the son-in-law, forshe ain't very ornamental in general.'

'My girls are now provided for,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'They are nowhappily provided for, and I have not laboured in vain!'

This is exactly what Mr Pecksniff would have said, if one of hisdaughters had drawn a prize of thirty thousand pounds in thelottery, or if the other had picked up a valuable purse in thestreet, which nobody appeared to claim. In either of these cases hewould have invoked a patriarchal blessing on the fortunate head,with great solemnity, and would have taken immense credit tohimself, as having meant it from the infant's cradle.

'Suppose we talk about something else, now,' observed Jonas, drily.'just for a change. Are you quite agreeable?'

'Quite,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'Ah, you wag, you naughty wag! Youlaugh at poor old fond papa. Well! He deserves it. And he don'tmind it either, for his feelings are their own reward. You havecome to stay with me, Jonas?'

'No. I've got a friend with me,' said Jonas.

'Bring your friend!' cried Mr Pecksniff, in a gush of hospitality.'Bring any number of your friends!'

'This ain't the sort of man to be brought,' said Jonas,contemptuously. 'I think I see myself "bringing" him to your house,for a treat! Thank'ee all the same; but he's a little too near thetop of the tree for that, Pecksniff.'

The good man pricked up his ears; his interest was awakened. Aposition near the top of the tree was greatness, virtue, goodness,sense, genius; or, it should rather be said, a dispensation fromall, and in itself something immeasurably better than all; with MrPecksniff. A man who was able to look down upon Mr Pecksniff couldnot be looked up at, by that gentleman, with too great an amount ofdeference, or from a position of too much humility. So it always iswith great spirits.

'I'll tell you what you may do, if you like,' said Jonas; 'you maycome and dine with us at the Dragon. We were forced to come down toSalisbury last night, on some business, and I got him to bring meover here this morning, in his carriage; at least, not his owncarriage, for we had a breakdown in the night, but one we hiredinstead; it's all the same. Mind what you're about, you know. He'snot used to all sorts; he only mixes with the best!'

'Some young nobleman who has been borrowing money of you at goodinterest, eh?' said Mr Pecksniff, shaking his forefinger facetiously.'I shall be delighted to know the gay sprig.'

'Borrowing!' echoed Jonas. 'Borrowing! When you're a twentieth partas rich as he is, you may shut up shop! We should be pretty well offif we could buy his furniture, and plate, and pictures, by clubbingtogether. A likely man to borrow: Mr Montague! Why since I waslucky enough (come! and I'll say, sharp enough, too) to get a sharein the Assurance office that he's President of, I've made--nevermind what I've made,' said Jonas, seeming to recover all at once hisusual caution. 'You know me pretty well, and I don't blab aboutsuch things. But, Ecod, I've made a trifle.'

'Really, my dear Jonas,' cried Mr Pecksniff, with much warmth, 'agentleman like this should receive some attention. Would he like tosee the church? or if he has a taste for the fine arts--which Ihave no doubt he has, from the description you give of hiscircumstances--I can send him down a few portfolios. SalisburyCathedral, my dear Jonas,' said Mr Pecksniff; the mention of theportfolios and his anxiety to display himself to advantage,suggesting his usual phraseology in that regard, 'is an edificereplete with venerable associations, and strikingly suggestive ofthe loftiest emotions. It is here we contemplate the work of bygoneages. It is here we listen to the swelling organ, as we strollthrough the reverberating aisles. We have drawings of thiscelebrated structure from the North, from the South, from the East,from the West, from the South-East, from the Nor'West--'

During this digression, and indeed during the whole dialogue, Jonashad been rocking on his chair, with his hands in his pockets and hishead thrown cunningly on one side. He looked at Mr Pecksniff nowwith such shrewd meaning twinkling in his eyes, that Mr Pecksniffstopped, and asked him what he was going to say.

'Ecod!' he answered. 'Pecksniff if I knew how you meant to leaveyour money, I could put you in the way of doubling it in no time.It wouldn't be bad to keep a chance like this snug in the family.But you're such a deep one!'

'Jonas!' cried Mr Pecksniff, much affected, 'I am not adiplomatical character; my heart is in my hand. By far thegreater part of the inconsiderable savings I have accumulated in thecourse of--I hope--a not dishonourable or useless career, is alreadygiven, devised, and bequeathed (correct me, my dear Jonas, if I amtechnically wrong), with expressions of confidence, which I will notrepeat; and in securities which it is unnecessary to mention to aperson whom I cannot, whom I will not, whom I need not, name.' Herehe gave the hand of his son-in-law a fervent squeeze, as if he wouldhave added, 'God bless you; be very careful of it when you get it!'

Mr Jonas only shook his head and laughed, and, seeming to thinkbetter of what he had had in his mind, said, 'No. He would keep hisown counsel.' But as he observed that he would take a walk, MrPecksniff insisted on accompanying him, remarking that he couldleave a card for Mr Montague, as they went along, by way ofgentleman-usher to himself at dinner-time. Which he did.

In the course of their walk, Mr Jonas affected to maintain thatclose reserve which had operated as a timely check upon him duringthe foregoing dialogue. And as he made no attempt to conciliate MrPecksniff, but, on the contrary, was more boorish and rude to himthan usual, that gentleman, so far from suspecting his real design,laid himself out to be attacked with advantage. For it is in thenature of a knave to think the tools with which he worksindispensable to knavery; and knowing what he would do himself insuch a case, Mr Pecksniff argued, 'if this young man wanted anythingof me for his own ends, he would be polite and deferential.'

The more Jonas repelled him in his hints and inquiries, the moresolicitous, therefore, Mr Pecksniff became to be initiated into thegolden mysteries at which he had obscurely glanced. Why shouldthere be cold and worldly secrets, he observed, between relations?What was life without confidence? If the chosen husband of hisdaughter, the man to whom he had delivered her with so much prideand hope, such bounding and such beaming joy; if he were not a greenspot in the barren waste of life, where was that oasis to be bound?

Little did Mr Pecksniff think on what a very green spot he plantedone foot at that moment! Little did he foresee when he said, 'All isbut dust!' how very shortly he would come down with his own!

Inch by inch, in his grudging and ill-conditioned way; sustained tothe life, for the hope of making Mr Pecksniff suffer in that tenderplace, the pocket, where Jonas smarted so terribly himself, gave himan additional and malicious interest in the wiles he was set on topractise; inch by inch, and bit by bit, Jonas rather allowed thedazzling prospects of the Anglo-Bengalee establishment to escapehim, than paraded them before his greedy listener. And in the sameniggardly spirit, he left Mr Pecksniff to infer, if he chose (whichhe DID choose, of course), that a consciousness of not having anygreat natural gifts of speech and manner himself, rendered himdesirous to have the credit of introducing to Mr Montague some onewho was well endowed in those respects, and so atone for his owndeficiencies. Otherwise, he muttered discontentedly, he would haveseen his beloved father-in-law 'far enough off,' before he wouldhave taken him into his confidence.

Primed in this artful manner, Mr Pecksniff presented himself atdinner-time in such a state of suavity, benevolence, cheerfulness,politeness, and cordiality, as even he had perhaps never attainedbefore. The frankness of the country gentleman, the refinement ofthe artist, the good-humoured allowance of the man of the world;philanthropy, forbearance, piety, toleration, all blended togetherin a flexible adaptability to anything and everything; wereexpressed in Mr Pecksniff, as he shook hands with the greatspeculator and capitalist.

'Welcome, respected sir,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'to our humble village!We are a simple people; primitive clods, Mr Montague; but we canappreciate the honour of your visit, as my dear son-in-law cantestify. It is very strange,' said Mr Pecksniff, pressing his handalmost reverentially, 'but I seem to know you. That toweringforehead, my dear Jonas,' said Mr Pecksniff aside, 'and thoseclustering masses of rich hair--I must have seen you, my dear sir,in the sparkling throng.'

Nothing was more probable, they all agreed.

'I could have wished,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'to have had the honour ofintroducing you to an elderly inmate of our house: to the uncle ofour friend. Mr Chuzzlewit, sir, would have been proud indeed tohave taken you by the hand.'

'I didn't suppose you'd care to hear of it,' returned Jonas. 'Youwouldn't care to know him, I can promise you.'

'Jonas! my dear Jonas!' remonstrated Mr Pecksniff. 'Really!'

'Oh! it's all very well for you to speak up for him,' said Jonas.'You have nailed him. You'll get a fortune by him.'

'Oho! Is the wind in that quarter?' cried Montague. 'Ha, ha, ha!'and here they all laughed--especially Mr Pecksniff.

'No, no!' said that gentleman, clapping his son-in-law playfullyupon the shoulder. 'You must not believe all that my young relativesays, Mr Montague. You may believe him in official business, andtrust him in official business, but you must not attach importanceto his flights of fancy.'

'Upon my life, Mr Pecksniff,' cried Montague, 'I attach the greatestimportance to that last observation of his. I trust and hope it'strue. Money cannot be turned and turned again quickly enough in theordinary course, Mr Pecksniff. There is nothing like building ourfortune on the weaknesses of mankind.'

'Oh fie, fie!' cried Mr Pecksniff. 'You are very pleasant. That Iam sure you don't! That I am sure you don't! How CAN you, you know?'

Again they all laughed in concert; and again Mr Pecksniff laughedespecially.

This was very agreeable indeed. It was confidential, easy,straight-forward; and still left Mr Pecksniff in the position ofbeing in a gentle way the Mentor of the party. The greatestachievements in the article of cookery that the Dragon had everperformed, were set before them; the oldest and best wines in theDragon's cellar saw the light on that occasion; a thousand bubbles,indicative of the wealth and station of Mr Montague in the depths ofhis pursuits, were constantly rising to the surface of theconversation; and they were as frank and merry as three honest mencould be. Mr Pecksniff thought it a pity (he said so) that MrMontague should think lightly of mankind and their weaknesses. Hewas anxious upon this subject; his mind ran upon it; in one way oranother he was constantly coming back to it; he must make a convertof him, he said. And as often as Mr Montague repeated his sentimentabout building fortunes on the weaknesses of mankind, and addedfrankly, 'WE do it!' just as often Mr Pecksniff repeated 'Oh fie! ohfie, for shame! I am sure you don't. How CAN you, you know?' layinga greater stress each time on those last words.

The frequent repetition of this playful inquiry on the part of MrPecksniff, led at last to playful answers on the part of MrMontague; but after some little sharp-shooting on both sides, MrPecksniff became grave, almost to tears; observing that if MrMontague would give him leave, he would drink the health of hisyoung kinsman, Mr Jonas; congratulating him upon the valuable anddistinguished friendship he had formed, but envying him, he wouldconfess, his usefulness to his fellow-creatures. For, if heunderstood the objects of that Institution with which he was newlyand advantageously connected--knowing them but imperfectly--theywere calculated to do Good; and for his (Mr Pecksniff's) part, if hecould in any way promote them, he thought he would be able to layhis head upon his pillow every night, with an absolute certainty ofgoing to sleep at once.

The transition from this accidental remark (for it was quiteaccidental and had fallen from Mr Pecksniff in the openness of hissoul), to the discussion of the subject as a matter of business, waseasy. Books, papers, statements, tables, calculations of variouskinds, were soon spread out before them; and as they were all framedwith one object, it is not surprising that they should all havetended to one end. But still, whenever Montague enlarged upon theprofits of the office, and said that as long as there were gullsupon the wing it must succeed, Mr Pecksniff mildly said 'Oh fie!'--and might indeed have remonstrated with him, but that he knew he wasjoking. Mr Pecksniff did know he was joking; because he said so.

There never had been before, and there never would be again, such anopportunity for the investment of a considerable sum (the rate ofadvantage increased in proportion to the amount invested), as atthat moment. The only time that had at all approached it, was thetime when Jonas had come into the concern; which made him ill-naturednow, and inclined him to pick out a doubt in this place, and a flawin that, and grumbling to advise Mr Pecksniff to think better of it.The sum which would complete the proprietorship in this snugconcern, was nearly equal to Mr Pecksniff's whole hoard; notcounting Mr Chuzzlewit, that is to say, whom he looked upon as moneyin the Bank, the possession of which inclined him the more to make adash with his own private sprats for the capture of such a whale asMr Montague described. The returns began almost immediately, andwere immense. The end of it was, that Mr Pecksniff agreed to becomethe last partner and proprietor in the Anglo-Bengalee, and made anappointment to dine with Mr Montague, at Salisbury, on the next daybut one, then and there to complete the negotiation.

It took so long to bring the subject to this head, that it wasnearly midnight when they parted. When Mr Pecksniff walkeddownstairs to the door, he found Mrs Lupin standing there, lookingout.